


meet you there

by diapermush



Category: South Park
Genre: Head Injury, Hospitals, it's nothing serious, just a concussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 03:46:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13802733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diapermush/pseuds/diapermush
Summary: Craig gets a concussion during a football game; Clyde meets him at the hospital.





	meet you there

**Author's Note:**

> hooo this is the second and last tumblr drabble I wrote and also my first fic for the fandom. not edited enough but.

Mrs. Tucker hardly gave him a second glance when he hurried through the hospital’s entrance. She blinked at him, expression neutral, and then turned back to the receptionist she had been speaking to. Clyde was relieved, unsure if he would be able to sit through the pleasantries she usually offered when they meet, no matter how brief she tended to keep them.

Clyde found Craig in the farthest corner under the mounted flatscreen that was mandatory to hospital waiting rooms, mute and on a home renovation channel. He was hunched forward a little bit with his elbow propped on an armrest, the heel of his palm pressed to his forehead. Clyde didn’t like the way his eyes were pinched shut so he approached as quiet as he could and took the seat to his left.  
“Hey,” he greeted softly, nudging the other’s arm.

Craig grunted, dragging his hand down a little so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. He grimaced for a second when he opened his eyes, as if the lights were too bright for him, and regarded Clyde with a bored sigh. “Hey, dude.”

“What’s going on? Why aren’t you, like, in a room or whatever? Or something?”

That got him a confused look. “I just got here,” Craig told him, calmly, like he hadn’t been stampeded by a guy double his size, helmet to helmet, with a resounding crack that could’ve been heard in the next state a half an hour earlier.

“Were not a part of what happened? Like, do you not remember?” He asked. Craig blinked and didn’t respond, which was answer enough. “You don’t  _remember_?”

Craig shrugged. “I remember waking up.”

“Okay, but - but that isn’t good, right? Like that’s amnesia? Or something I don’t know - ”

“Chill, babe, it’s just a concussion.”

Clyde scoffed, sounding a little more hysterical than he would have preferred. “Bro, what? That’s a brain injury. Did you not see that murder porn episode where that guy gets into a car accident, and they arrest him because they all thought he was fine but the next day they find him dead in his cell and the morgue guy was like ‘he had brain damage from the trauma,’ and, like, he takes this green jello cup and shakes it, then pours it out on the table and it’s all mush and the morgue guy goes 'this was his brain after the accident.’ That could be you, dude, you could die because this thirty year old  _man_  posing as a senior in high school ran you the fuck over and this shitty hospital - ”

Something touches his face. Clyde looks up from the other’s hand he had been holding in a tight grip and found that Craig was already watching him with that bored but all-knowing look. He left his hands where they were, one in Clyde’s and the other pressed lightly against his cheek. His thumb had gently wiped away wetness from under one of Clyde’s eyes, and he continued to stare. Clyde hadn’t even realized he’d been crying.

It was a moment before the spell broke between them, a woman clearing her throat from a seat on the other side of the room. Clyde broke eye contact first, dragging his sleeve across his face to dry any rogue tears. Craig pulled away, but kept his hand in the other’s, and turned to look at the woman who had interrupted the moment. She hadn’t been looking at them, flipping through an old magazine. and probably had a genuine itch in her throat, but Craig still glared.

“You sound like Tweek,” Craig told him once his attention was returned to Clyde. It was an attempt to alleviate any awkwardness that threatened the tone between them from the - admittedly - uncharacteristic public display of affection. He was known for brief touches like gripping at the other’s arm or squeezing his hand. The tender face holding while gazing into each other’s eyes? It was new. There might  _actually_  be something wrong with him. 

Clyde laughed a little, voice sounding more congested than usual. He sniffled again. “Shut up. Weirder shit’s happened here. It wouldn’t be as fucked up for someone to just drop dead for no reason, based on our standards.”

“I’m not gonna die because of a fuckin’ concussion.”

“I know.” They both fall silent, Craig going back to leaning forward with his eyes closed. Clyde watched Mrs. Tucker for a moment, grinning when she caught his gaze and rolled her eyes at whatever the receptionist was droning on about. “You should’ve heard the noise when he hit you,” he said after a while. Craig opened one of his eyes to look at him, letting him know he was listening. “You looked dead, dude.”

Craig hummed. He seemed half asleep. “I am dead.”

“Oh. I’ll miss you.”

“Thanks, man.”

**Author's Note:**

> I rlly had to hold myself back from calling this "bone hurting juice". anyway, the "murder porn" that clyde was talking about is referring to an episode of csi miami??? every time I hear about any kind of head injury I think of the eccentric morgue dude and green jello. 
> 
> blah blah blah if theres a mistake lemme know blah blah blah


End file.
